“Then how many to crack Bu-Psych?”
“Helmut, don’t talk foolishness. We don’t know how many departments are in this. We don’t know how many guards.”
“Then find out!” bellowed Glass. “You be ready to move the night of the seventh. They’re planning something and I’ve a suspicion it will be aimed at the Fall poll. Well, we’re going to strike first. Bring in every man you can trust. Raid your sub-districts in other cities for men.”
“But that only gives me two days. I’ll need…”
“You’ve had two months! Great Gallup! You’ve had two years! Get moving!”
Addington hoisted himself to his feet with a grunt. He shook his head, waddled from the room.
Gerard went to another door, opened it. “Cecie, I’ve a job for you. You remember Daniel Movius? Well, he’s making trouble for the government and I want you to…”
Chapter 26
Movius took the elevator to the Bu-Psych sub-basement. He glanced at his watch—six-thirty. There were so many loose ends, but they couldn’t be helped now. Another half hour.
The room was a contrast in crudity and efficiency. Rough concrete walls enclosed a scene of hurrying messengers, clacking typewriters, people conducting low-voiced conversations on phones. It was a space about eighty feet long, perhaps half that wide, a row of concrete pillars down the middle. Early in the city’s history it had been built for printing machinery never installed. Forgotten and walled off, it had been re-discovered by a Sep in Bu-Plan.
Movius entered through the access tunnel his men had hacked out. What he saw in the room pleased him. The tall black box of a scrambler dominated one end of the room, beside it an emergency generator. A large map of the world covered the opposite wall. Red pins showed Sep organizations which were ready to attack. Yellow pins indicated danger areas. A liquid incendiary tube ran along the top of the map, ready to destroy it. Every record in the room was guarded the same way.
Along one wall was a row of desks, secretaries working at typewriters. Between pillars and walls were other desks, some occupied, some empty—district cell chiefs. In the opposite aisle, more desks—area coordinators. In a far corner, two desks and a typesetting and facsimile transceiver identical to the one in The Bureau of Communication which controlled the world’s opp registration kiosks.
O’Brien and a short, chunky man stood in front of the transceiver as Movius approached. The chunky man was speaking, pointing to a square black screen above the transceiver. “…basic fallacy. They think there’s no way to tell when a message is on the beam or what scramble pattern the message is taking. Dan’s idea when we first worked on it was to make a device which would show us the message and its scramble pattern as a motion. He…”
Movius put a hand on the chunky man’s shoulder. “Hello, Phil.”
“Oh, hello, Dan. I was just explaining to Mr. O’Brien here…”
“I heard you.” Movius glanced across at O’Brien. “We’re as ready as we’ll ever be.” He walked to the corner desk, dropped into the chair.
Behind O’Brien he could see a round table with four men seated around it, three talking, one doodling on a scratch pad. They were men of different sizes and shapes, but with a stamp of sameness to them. One was constructing an intricate doodle like a maze. It was a significant doodle for the men at the table. They were the Bu-Psych semantic analysts, masters at maze-like thinking.
O’Brien went to the table, addressed the doodler. “I think we’ll have some work for you pretty soon, Jim.”
The man, a thin-faced individual with grey hair like a disarrayed mop, pushed away his notepad. “It’s about time.”
Movius looked at his watch, listened to it. “Where’s Peterson? He was due back here with Grace an hour ago.”
Someone came into the room at the far end. A post blocked the view. Movius shifted to one side. Navvy, and hurrying. He stopped at the desk.
“I couldn’t find him,” said Navvy. “I thought sure I could find him. He’s not in any of his regular haunts.”
“Quilliam London can be as elusive as a mosquito if he wants,” said O’Brien. “He slipped right away from my men.”
“This isn’t good,” said Movius.
O’Brien rubbed the grey spots at his temples. “He could ruin everything. He knows too much about our plans.”
“I should never have let Grace go out,” said Movius. He slapped the palm of his hand against the desktop in irritation. “She was just like you, Navvy, sure she could find him.”
“He’s a master of disguise,” said Navvy. “I hate to admit it, but I could have passed him a dozen times and never recognized him. I thought I’d know his walk, but…” He shrugged. “Then I hoped he’d recognize me and contact me.” Navvy lowered his eyes. “I… uh, took off my disguise a couple of times just in the hopes…”
In unison, both Movius and O’Brien barked, “You what?”
“I wasn’t followed,” said Navvy. “The bull-con isn’t made who could tail me.”
“That wasn’t what I was thinking,” said Movius. He looked at O’Brien, an unspoken question in his eyes.
O’Brien held out both hands, palms up. “She might get the same notion. After all, she’s his sister. Who knows?”
Movius jumped to his feet. “Navvy, do you have any idea where…” From his standing position, Movius saw Janus Peterson’s bulky figure come through the door, hurry toward them. He was alone.
Peterson was breathing rapidly. He came up to the desk, took a deep breath, swallowed before speaking. “Dan, I…”
“Where’s Grace?”
“I had no idea she was going to pull a stunt like that,” said Peterson.
Movius walked around the desk. “Where is she?”
“Bu-Con has her. The Coor. They took her to Com-Burs.”
In a flat tone, Movius said, “She took off her disguise.”
Peterson nodded. “At the festival grounds. Lots of old timers hang around there. She was hoping Quilliam would spot her. I didn’t know what she was going to do. I swear.” He took a gulping breath. “She went into a comfort station, came out the other side without a disguise. I didn’t know what to do. I saw a young fellow on the path spot her and I knew if I went to her, I’d be tabbed. She saw this fellow the same time I did—maybe she recognized him. She started to run. Just like that they were all around her. They seemed to come up out of the ground. I faced back, watched them hustle her into a car.”
Movius clenched his fists. “How do you know they went to Com-Burs?”
“I spotted a Bu-Trans truck, gave them the sign and followed the car.”
“In a truck?” asked O’Brien.
“They never look at trucks,” said Peterson.
“Bu-Con does,” said Movius. “Are you certain you weren’t followed?”
“Not unless they came through some garbage tubes…” Peterson lowered his eyes. “It’s my fault they got her, Dan. Give me some men and…”
Movius turned his back. “No.” He looked across at O’Brien. “Contact Cecelia Lang.”
O’Brien nodded. “Right.” He left the room.
“Janus, get your guards into the tunnel, see that O’Brien’s Security force is alerted. The Fall poll preliminary starts in a few minutes.”
“What about Grace?” asked Navvy.
“I’m hoping the confusion will give Cecelia a chance to act.” Movius compressed his lips. “We can’t carry off an open attack. They’d use Grace as a shield.”